


Hometown Hero

by duckgirlie



Category: Mighty Ducks (Movies)
Genre: Future Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-18
Updated: 2016-12-18
Packaged: 2018-09-09 10:04:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8886739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/duckgirlie/pseuds/duckgirlie
Summary: Adam goes to Harvard and Florida before making it back to Minnesota. Charlie never leaves.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [oanja](https://archiveofourown.org/users/oanja/gifts).



> Thank you so much to my invaluable team of experts!

Adam hasn't been back to this rink since he left for Eden Hall. It's smaller then he remembers it.

They have a full set of gear waiting for him, and it's the first time he's worn anything but the jersey he pulled on for the press conference last week. The only thing that's not brand-new are his skates. For a second, he looks at his name across the back of the jersey and has another moment of feeling a step outside his own life.

He's done promo shoots alone before, but it's still weird to get dressed by himself in an empty locker room. He's on the long bench he remembers from being a kid, the lockers a little newer but in no better condition than they were back then either, and if he closes his eyes he can imagine the rest of the team around him. Averman yelling about whatever tiny grievance he had against some guy in his math class, Goldberg insisting that a bologna sandwich was perfectly appropriate pre-game food, and Charlie...

Adam opens his eyes again. The room is still empty, his new Wild gear neatly waiting for him to pull himself together. He shakes his head clear and gets dressed.

Even if it looks smaller, the ice feels the same, and he makes a few wide lazy circles around the rink to get his legs warmed up. There are a few random people in the stands but none of them seem to be paying any attention to what's going on on the ice, and he's grateful for that. 

They take still shots first, a few random ones of him posed with his stick on the ice, a shot with him in face-off position with BANKS 96 right in the middle, and a couple of what Connie used to always call the glamour shot, the three-quarters profile that ended up on lots of hockey posters. He thinks there's going to be an obvious helmet mark on his forehead for the shots they had him take it off, and wonders if they're going to retouch the photo to take those out or if it's going to add to the authenticity. 

Then the interview starts. They start with some softballs, asking him about his last season and how he likes to tape his sticks, if he's going to miss those Miami winters, stuff like that. They ask about his number, and it's a long story about numbers that were taken or otherwise weird to use, so he just gives them the edited version, doesn’t mention who wore the number before him.

But that opens it up to Minnesota, and the questions start about leaving, and coming back. Adam still doesn't have a reason he can articulate about why he picked the Wild. There were better offers, and better teams, but he's still here. He's lucky that they already assume they know why, that the irresistible pull of playing in The State of Hockey was all it took, and a couple of comments about his family and missing snow in winter was all it took to move them past that. Otherwise, he can answer the rest of their questions, about if he knows any of the guys on the team already, and what he thinks their chances are this season, the usual stuff for a free agent interview.

They go over their booked ice time, and when Adam looks over at the boards just as they're about to finish up he can see a few tiny heads peaking over and trying to figure out what's going on. 

Suddenly, one of them recognises him and he can hear a hum of excitement spread through the group. Adam glances over at the person leading the shoot, and she waves him away. 

"We're done here, you can go say hi if you want."

He skates over to the crowd. It's only about six kids, all on the younger end of pee wee, and he's just leaning over the boards to say hi when one of them yells for their teacher to come over and Adam has to stand up straight again.

It's Charlie.

Adam nearly loses his balance when he catches his eye. Charlie's smile dims a little when he realises what the kids are so excited about, but Adam's pretty sure the kids wouldn't notice. 

One kid, probably too young even for pee wee, grabs Charlie's hand and points to Adam. 

"Charlie, that's Adam Banks"

"I know, Maria."

The kids are all just in regular street clothes with their skates, but they still all manage to pull something out for Adam to sign. Charlie snaps a couple of pictures of them all with his phone, promising to send copies to various moms and dads so they can all see.

Right at the end, one of the kids asks Charlie if he wants a picture with Adam. Adam suddenly finds the loose thread on the thumb of one of his gloves super fascinating.

"That's okay Kenny. I actually have a picture with Adam already."

"We used to play together when we were your age." Adam offers, and the group of kids all stares at Charlie in wonder.

"Yep. A long time ago."

He hustles the kids on to the ice, barely looking at Adam as he passes. They all yell goodbye to him before circling around Charlie and gazing up at him with rapt attention.

Adam goes to change.

* * * * *

Adam isn't sure why he does it, but he waits in the parking lot until he sees the kids leaving, and a few minutes later, Charlie walking out himself. There aren't that many cars parked, and Adam's must stick out or something, because Charlie heads straight over.

"What's going on, Adam?"

"I didn't know you were going to be here today."

Charlie rolls his eyes. "Obviously. That's not an answer though."

"I don't know. I just... I don't know."

Charlie looks like he's about to leave, so Adam blurts out the first thing that comes to his head.

"Do you want to get a drink or something?" 

Charlie stares at him for a second. "Seriously?"

"Seriously. Anywhere you want."

Charlie stays silent for a beat longer, before sighing and walking around to the passenger door of Adam's car. 

"You're driving."

The bar Charlie directs him too isn't anywhere near his place in Lowertown, but it's not like he can't afford to take a cab and pick his car up tomorrow if it gets to that.

The bar is kind of dim inside, but doesn't look as divey as he expected. Adam can see flashes of recognition on a couple of people's faces, but no one approaches them, and he's greatful. He follows Charlie to a booth in the corner, and they sit down on opposite sides.

There's silence for a moment, stretching into awkward before they both try and break it.

"So-"

"So-" 

"You first." Adam offers.

"Shit man, I don't know. This was your idea."

He knows Charlie means this drink, right now, but for a second it feels like Charlie's talking about him coming back to Minnesota. About him leaving in the first place.

"You know I don't always think things through."

He's trying to joke, but it doesn't land. Charlie stares at his hands instead. The silence stretches again, through the server coming by to take their orders, until Adam finally has to break it again.

"I'm sorry."

Charlie laughs. "For what?"

"A lot of things."

It isn't enough and he knows it. Adam rolls his beer bottle between his hands and hopes Charlie can break the silence this time. 

"I hope you're ready for all this hometown hero stuff. I've already seen people in your jersey, and it's still summer."

He's trying to lighten the mood, and Adam takes the olive branch.

"Yeah, it's weird. I'm still not used to seeing myself in this jersey."

"New colours, new number..."

"Old number. I wore 96 in Harvard. I couldn't in Florida, but before-"

"I know."

It felt like the air got thicker. Adam swallowed.

"You were only there for two years though. I mean, it was such a big deal that you went, I just figured you'd stay longer."

"That's not what it was about. It was-"

"I know."

The silence hits again. Charlie peeled the edges of his beer label off.

"But now you're back. You can get the perfect hockey wife and have lots of future NHL players, and your dad will be thrilled."

The bottle slips out of Adam's grip and nearly falls over.

"Charlie..."

" _What_?"

"In Florida, my teammates... My teammates knew."

"Knew what?"

Adam stares at Charlie meaningfully across the table. He doesn't want to say it outloud, still unsure of how safe this unfamiliar space is. But Charlie has to know what he's getting at.

Abruptly, Charlie pushes his beer away. "I can't do this."

He walks out, leaving Adam scrambling to toss enough cash on the table to cover them and still make it outside before Charlie's gone.

Charlie's still on the sidewalk and Adam hurries over to him.

"That wasn't an invitation to follow."

"At least let me drive you home."

Charlie looks around for a moment, clearly trying to avoid that, before his shoulders slump slightly. "Fine."

The tension in Adam's car is thick even on the short drive. They're stuck at a red light when Charlie turns suddenly to glare at Adam.

"What do you mean, they knew? All of them?"

"Most of them?"

"Because you told them?"

"I told some of them. Some of them probably assumed it if I brought someone I was seeing to something. Some of them are probably idiots and had no idea. But yeah, they knew." 

Charlie turns back to face the windscreen. They pass another two intersections before he talks again.

"What about your dad?"

It takes Adam a second to answer. They're already in front of Charlie's building before he starts.

"He will know. I'll tell him, when-"

"You retire?"

"No. When I'm seeing someone. If it's serious. I'll tell him."

Charlie scoffs. "And what, none of the guys down in Florida made the cut?"

Adam catches his eye. "None of them."

It takes Charlie a second to react, and then Adam's surprised when instead of saying anything, he just gets out of the car and goes to his door. Adam has to rush to get out and make it over before Charlie closes the door on him and the conversation is over.

Maybe the conversation is already over and Adam just can't admit it to himself. But he manages to get to Charlie before he's inside, and Charlie doesn't stop Adam from following him in.

Inside, it's a narrow flight of stairs to Charlie's apartment, but Charlie doesn't lead him up. He puts a hand on Adam's chest to push him back a little.

"Why are you here?"

"We were talking."

"I was done talking."

"Look, we don't have to talk about that, we can talk about something else, anything you wa-"

Charlie cuts him off with a kiss. 

Adam leans into it instinctively, his hands finding Charlie's waist and pulling him in tight, pressing his tongue into Charlie's mouth at the first chance. Charlie wraps his arms around Adam's neck, fisting one hand in his hair.

It feels like it's forever, but it can only have been a minute or two before Charlie steps back, pulling himself from Adam's embrace with a rueful smile.

"I could never think for long around you."

"Charlie..." Adam reached out again, his fingers only grazing Charlie's arm. 

"I need to think though. You too, probably."

Adam's hand falls back against his side. Charlie steps towards the stairs, but darts back at the last minute to press another kiss against the side of Adam's mouth.

"You should call me. Later, once you've had a chance to think."

Adam nods silently and lets Charlie disappear up the stairs before turning to leave.

Outside, the sun seems even brighter than before

**Author's Note:**

> (Apologies to Pierre-Marc Bouchard, who actually would have been wearing 96 in Minnesota at the time this fic take places (roughly the 2009 off-season) but I was having feelings)


End file.
